The 1st Hunger Games
by SilenceWillFall73
Summary: 24 tributes have been thrown into an arena, but everything is new. Join them in the very 1st Hunger Games, where everything is new for everyone, even for the Capitol.
1. Chapter 1

**The first Hunger Games**

 **Teddy Johnson – District 1 male**

It's reaping day.

Groaning, I roll out of bed and begin to change into my formal clothes. I heard that in poorer districts, the children eligible for reaping (12 to 18) take tesserae rations. However if they do then their name will be put in the reaping bowls multiple times, that's what the Capitol told us. Sometimes I thank my lucky stars that I was born into the wealthiest district.

Dragging my feet along the plush carpet, the delicious smell of sizzling sausages, bacon, juicy tomatoes and mushrooms fills my nostrils, managing to get all the way down to my stomach, which hasn't tasted food for the last eight hours. "Teddy, breakfast's ready!" My mother calls, in her sing-songy voice. I run quickly down the stairs and am greeted by my six younger siblings: Dolly, Sapphire, Shimmer, Ruby, Summer and Rupert. Out of all seven of us, five of us will be eligible for reaping, Dolly, Sapphire, Shimmer, Ruby and me. We each are a year apart, I'm sixteen, Dolly's 15 etc. all the way down to Ruby who just turned 12 a day before the cut off for this year's reaping. I position myself at the dining table besides Shimmer and Ruby. Both girls are usually pale, as are the rest of us Johnsons; however these two managed to take pale to the next level. Their skin was sallow and whiter than the snow that falls in winter. Their eyes seemed indented in their skulls, and dark, heavy bags sat under them. They were trembling uncontrollably, and they flinched at every sound. The two older sisters seemed more collected, but even Dolly and Sapphire seemed paler than usual. As she passed me my breakfast, my mum whispered into my ear that all four of them had had very restless nights. Well that explains the frantic whispers I heard from all directions last night.

The town square was frantic, people everywhere. Anxious parents and jittery kids everywhere the eye could see. As we were all different ages, we had to stand in different sections of the square, so we didn't even have the comfort of each other. My fingers still hurt from when they took a small sample of my blood for registration. I gently squeeze my finger in hope that the pain subsides, but it doesn't. Grimacing, I turn to face the raised stand where a peculiar woman has just walked on. Her skin is a light shade of pink, while her hair is a very bright purple, and long to. She introduces herself as Petty Blanche, District 1's escort for the games. Suddenly it all makes sense; she must be from the Capitol. That explains the abnormal skin and bright hair.

"Welcome, potential tributes, to the reaping of the very first annual Hunger Games, isn't this exciting!" Her voice sounds strange, and I realise it is because she is speaking with the Capitol accent. "Without further ado, let's get down to reaping!" She places her pink hand into a very large, glass spherical bowl. "And the female tribute representing district 1 is…" I cross every part of me that I can cross in hope that it is not one of my four eligible sisters. "Opal Hart!" I breathe out; it feels like a huge strain has been taken off me. However I realise that the males are next. Now I'm sweating, you see, I don't like fighting, so I'd be hopeless in the Capitol's games. Too late to fret now, as Petty's baby pink hands are reaching into the other glass bowl… "Teddy Johnson!"It takes a while to sink in. I feel like my stomach has dropped suddenly from a great height. I feel sick, like I'm going to faint. Slowly, with shaking footsteps, I walk towards the platform. Once on it, I can see the looks of horror upon my mother's and sister's faces. Gulping, I look sideways in the direction of Opal. Despite her name and age of 15, Opal looks tough and battle ready, while I look more like some little kid from district 11 or twelve, as even though I've always had plenty to eat, all of my family is rather petite, which could be both a blessing and a disadvantage in the arena. Petty Blanche is grinning like an idiot towards the crowd. "The families of each of these two tributes will be allowed one hour to comfort them, before they have to take the train to the Capitol." She says, before ushering me and Opal towards the Justice Building.

I sit on the crimson velvet sofa awaiting the arrival of my family. My mother had divorced my father when she found out that he had actually been feeding information to the Capitol. So I'm pretty sure that other families will not be too sad to see me being slaughtered in the arena. The door opens and in walks my family, all seven of them. Eleven year old Summer and ten year old Rupert. At least if I win these games then all of us will be spared from the games after on, however I'm not sure if the Capitol just told us that to make us feel better. All 5 of my sisters, plus Rupert and my mother throw themselves round me. We don't say anything, we just stay like that. When all of us break apart, my mum hands me a badge. It's the emblem of district one, however instead of saying 'luxury' like it does on the actual crest, it says simply in small writing: 'Teddy Johnson, loved dearly.' Suddenly, tears are streaming down my face, I can't stop them, but they don't mind. My mother whispers in my ear, "You are loved, and we are with you every day that you are in that awful arena. Good luck and we love you Teddy, you'll do us proud." She has to stop because tears are running uncontrollably down her face to. I look up and see that all my siblings' faces are streaked with tears. Just then the door bursts open and a peacekeeper strides in. "Times up, get out!" they all give me one last quick hug and are ushered, or rather shoved, out the room. Even though I want to see them again, something deep down tells me that I'm not going to see them again.

I and Opal are directed to a waiting train. It's one of those high speed Capitol ones. Its interior reminds me of the Justice building, all velvety and crimson. As I stare out of the window I realise that I am never going to see my family or my home again.

 **Opal Hart – District 1 female**

My father makes the best pancakes that Panem has ever seen. Trust me; until you have tasted these, you have not eaten anything. Only one thing stops this morning from the being the usual cheery atmosphere in the Hart household and that is the looming threat of the reaping. Amber sits next to me happily spooning plentiful amounts of sugar, lemon and maple syrup onto her pancake. On My right are my two brothers, Jet and Topaz, twins and both 10; and my mother. I am the only one who will have to face the reaping, obviously Jet and Topaz will have to in two years, and Amber will have to next year, as she is only 11, but for now they're safe. Well, as safe as anyone can be now.

Dressed in my best formal clothes, I stand with the other 15 year old girls. I stand out quite a bit, with my stocky build and shimmering, almost white hair. We all anxiously wait, and already my palms are getting sticky. A woman walks onto the stage. If you can even classify her as a human woman, that is. Her skin is dyed a baby pink and her hair is a bright shade of purple. She speaks with that iconic, Capitol accent, another clue to where she is from. "Welcome, potential tributes, to the reaping of the very first annual Hunger Games, isn't this exciting. Without further ado, let's get down to reaping!" I pray to whichever God is out there that I am not picked, and I manage to almost make myself believe that my name is one in almost half a million when she says the fateful words: "And the female tribute representing district one is… Opal Hart!" I feel faint. Almost staggering, I walk without looking back to the raised platform, where this Petty Blanche (she introduced herself earlier) is standing. I feel almost sick to look at her. How can she enjoy this? Before I know it, she has called out the male tribute, a boy called Teddy Johnson. I almost smile. How fitting for the Capitol to send to his death the boy of one of their best double spies. About three years ago, his mother, Madge Johnson, divorced Lukah Johnson because she and the rest of the district had discovered that instead of spying on the Capitol, he had been feeding them information about the district's plans. At least Teddy will be an easy kill to make. I don't really _want_ to kill anyone, but I know it's either kill or be killed so what can I do? And I am determined to come out of that arena and see Amber, Jet and Topaz again. Petty give another fake and Capitol laugh before announcing that the families of the two tributes will be allowed precisely one hour to say their goodbyes.

"Oh darling" my mother cries as she rushes into the velvet clad room. Amber is sobbing loudly, and even the 'brave' Jet and Topaz are sniffling. My father holds out his hand to me, and in it is a beautiful pair of opal earrings. "We are allowed to give you a token to take into the arena. We thought you'd like this." I can't speak so I just nod my head instead, but he understands. All of us seem pretty choked up. But I try to compose myself as I know that there will be plenty of cameras at the station where we are due to get our train. For the final part of the remaining hour we just sit there, trying not to show each other how sad we are. A peacekeeper comes in and states that Opal Hart's family better get out as the hours up. "I love you!" I shout frantically at my family, but all I hear is Amber's quiet sobs.

Petty leads me and Teddy towards the station. I was right in thinking that there was going to be cameras, and I can barely see through all the flashing. I was also right in thinking that Teddy wasn't much competition, as his face is red and blotchy, and quite frankly looks like a hose has been set loose on him.

The train is one of those sleek Capitol models, and I realise that our journey to the hub of Panem will take just over ten minutes. Trying to make sense of all the emotions running through my head I sit down on one of the plush sofas and close my eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - district 2 reaping**

 **Jay Herring, district 2 male.**

I don't get these games. Why should they make us, the children, suffer for our parents and grandparents wrongdoing? Probably to make them suffer I suppose. The only thing that I have ever done wrong is probably eat too many sweets and cakes. However, being a bit on the podgy side may come in handy if I do get reaped as a tribute as it will mean that I won't starve to death in the arena. In fact, even though I hate the Capitol for doing what they are doing, I'm still quite excited for the games, whether I'm in them or watching them with a big box of caramel pop-corn. Ever since they announced the games, I've been training hard for them: lifting weights to turn my flab into muscle; throwing various bladed weapons; fighting with swords and daggers; and wrestling. I think I'm pretty prepared. My dad's a peacekeeper nowadays, and he has given me some fighting advice. I go over all the techniques in my head as I wolf down five waffles and a big pile of strawberries. Unfortunately, my father isn't here in district 2, he's all the way over in district 7. My mother died giving birth to my little brother, Miko, about six years ago. So now I just live with him and my older brother and sister, Rico and Braiya. Both of my older siblings are 19, so they don't have to go through this whole reaping process, however Miko will have to, but because he's only seven, not for five years. So this year, I am the only one to be in any potential danger of death. I'm hoping that I win, not just for the money, but to save Miko from the threat of the Games. The capitol told us that if we win, our family will be spared. Although I'm not 100% sure, as just before the camera cut out, President Snow gave an almost unnoticeable smirk to Hio Vane, the head game maker of the first annual Hunger Games. I heard that some new medical miracle has come to the Capitol. Apparently it can slow down your body clock to stop, or halt ageing for up to three hundred years. It won't stop you from being _killed_ , but it will prevent death from disease or old age. So lucky us, we get to have him as president for even longer.

My formal clothes almost cut off my breathing, since when did I get so big? I'm sure I haven't been eating _that_ much. I take a pair of scissors from my dresser and carefully make a few snips around the waist of the trousers, and they seem to fit a bit more comfortably. I do the same for the top and the jacket, although finding places where the alterations don't show is harder. Finally it is eleven o'clock, and time for the reaping.

The whole centre square is packed with potential tributes. So much so, that the spectators (parents and children either too young or too old) had to watch on screens ranging out to well over a mile from the town square. Although district 1 is wealthier, district 2 is far larger. Everyone eligible for the games has to have a small amount of blood taken from their finger for identification. Mine still stings, however I know that if I do get reaped, I'll experience far worse pain than this. Suddenly a hush falls upon the square and the streets beyond; I turn my attention away from the stinging in my finger and to the raised platform in front of us. I'm standing with my fellow male fifteen year olds, who all look terrified at the prospect of themselves becoming the male tribute. I smirk quietly to myself. I have a plan.

A woman walks onto the stage. She looks quite normal until I see her face. 3D butterflies stick out from three points of her face, her nose, her right eyebrow and her lower left cheek. It looks quite comical until I clock that they are actually grafted onto her skin. And when she speaks, I fully understand it. She must be from the Capitol, an honoured guest to escort us to the Capitol all the way until we are due to take off to the arena. I remember that President Snow told us about it in a television broadcast about the games earlier this year, when the prospect of the games was still fresh and still sinking in for us. Apart from those butterflies and lilac, curly hair, she looks reasonably like someone from the districts, not as bad as some other people that I've seen. "Why, happy Hunger Games!" she says, into the microphone in that silly Capitol accent. "My name is Eama Wilkins, and a warm welcome to all you lovely tributes, just look at those smiling faces, ready to prove themselves to the rest of Panem!" I'm pretty sure that no one was smiling at this point. "Ladies first, then!" she reaches one of her hands into the bowl on the right hand side. Slowly, she takes out a small, white slip of paper. "And the female tribute from district two is… Charity Smith! Come up dear, don't be afraid!" I see a large and burly seventeen year old walk up to the stage; in fact she's almost strutting. I gulp, should I still go ahead with my plan if she's going to be in the games? "Well done dear. Now for the men! And the male tribute from district 2 is… Alysandri Brecket!" A small and very frail boy of twelve walks up to the stage. He looks to be still recovering from the flu, which had recently done its rounds on all the small children a few months ago, however Alysandri is one of those kids who gets a cold a nearly dies. I knew then that I'd have to go through with my plan, for the sake of this small 12 year old. "I volunteer!" I yell at the top of my voice. Eama looks around to see where the souce of the voice is coming from. Everyone looks confused. Can this happen? Just to make sure that they heard me I yell again, "I volunteer as tribute in replacement of Alysandri Brecket." Eama slowly nods her head, and beckons for Alysandri to go back to his place. "Well Ladies and gentlemen, we have a willing volunteer, what's your name?" she asks me. "Jay Herring" I say. "Well, let's give it up for these two brave tributes, Charity Smith, and Jay Herring!" She goes on to inform the audience how each tribute will have one hour to say their goodbyes to their family, before ushering us to the Justice Building.

Miko runs into the room and throws himself onto my large frame. "I'll miss you, Jay!" he says. I notice that Rico and Braiya have entered the room, and Rico's left hand looks as though it's holding something, and sure enough, he walks over to me and holds out his hand. In it, is a perfect model of a jabberjay, a mutt or mutation created by the Capitol during the rebellion. They can perfectly mimic human conversation, so that the Capitol could listen to the rebels' plans. However the rebels caught on and started feeding the Capitol wrong information, so President Snow ordered the jabberjays to be left out in the wild to die, however they bred with the natural mockingbirds and created a special species called mockingjays. "Because you never shut up!" He says. But it means more. Back when my mother was still alive, she used to call me her little jabberjay, because like Rico mentioned, I never shut up, and as my name is Jay, it sort of became my nickname. I kind of like it as well, especially now as it reminds me of my mum. Both my older siblings give me a quick hug and then leave. I understand. All of us Herrings are not very good at showing emotions, and especially for those two, they find situations like this quite hard. So for the next 45 minutes I was stuck with babbling Miko. Great.

After the peacekeeper had dragged Miko off me, I was lead to the train station. I don't think that any of us, excluding the peacekeepers here, have ever been on a train, I know I haven't. And this one was lovely. Sleek, grey, and very, very fast. Charity remains emotionless as the cameras snap away at us. Even with my Herring genes, I am finding it hard to keep the tears back. Once on board, I immediately sort out the food cart, and once my energy is sufficiently recharged, I plonk myself down to watch the reapings.

 **Charity Smith – district 2 female**

I look at myself in the mirror. Since the announcement of the games I have been training harder than ever, and you can definitely see that. I flex my arms, and strong muscles show in each position. Turning towards the wall opposite my bed, I grab a handful of knives and throw them one by one at the small target that I asked my father to get me, when they announced the games. Frequent practice plus the best knife trainer in district 2 means that with every throw I am dislodging the previous one, each landing in the centimetre gap which is the bullseye. I then turn to a slightly larger target next to it and take up my carbon bow and twelve arrows. Each hit is as accurate as the last, and once I've shot all twelve of them, there is a mass of arrows lodged in the bullseye. Finally, picking up my familiar knives again, I turn to the last target. An exact outline of the human body, complete with the vital organs drawn on. Each spot is marked out of ten by how dangerous the hit is. For example, over the heart, there is a ten, but the upper arm is only a 3. None are marked zero, as with knives or indeed arrows, each shot can cause the receiver to bleed to death. I aim one knife at the heart, and get a deep hit (I'm pretty sure it must have gone quite deep into the wall as well, oops!). I then throw three in various, less vital areas. Finally, with the last knife, I throw it at such an angle that it lands deeply in the head, but slices down the face, all the way down to the lungs, where it stays. Grinning maliciously to myself, I hear my father's voice telling me that it's time for the reaping. Almost running down the stairs, I grab my coat from the hook near the doorway and am out onto the street before my father can finish his sentence. He laughs as he too comes out of the house. My mother _was_ a doctor, but during the bombings a couple of years ago, she was killed. I don't really miss her; she was so quiet and was barely in the house, always down helping the victims of the rebellion in the hospital. So now it's just me and my father, as I'm an only child. We quickly make our way to the town square, which is already packed. A woman pricks my finger with a needle which I assume is for registration, and directs me to the section other seventeen year old girls. Most of them are gangly and quite small, but not me. I really stick out with my big muscles. The area goes silent as a woman with butterflies on her face walks onto the platform ahead of us. "Why, happy Hunger Games! My name is Eama Wilkins, and a warm welcome to all you lovely tributes, just look at those smiling faces, ready to prove themselves to the rest of Panem! Ladies first then!" I cross my fingers that it's me and sure enough, "And the female tribute from district two is… Charity Smith! Come up dear, don't be afraid!"

Hah! Likely story, I'm not scared, I'm thrilled. I make the most of the fact that everyone is looking at me as I walk up to the platform, towards this silly Eama Wilkins. I want everyone to know that I am going to win this thing. I find my father in the sea of people and grin at him. Eama then calls out the male tribute which is this small and fragile boy called Alysandri Brecket, but before I can size him up as a competitor, a very fat boy who I think is called Jay Herring, or jabberjay as his friends and family call him, lunges forward and shouts at the top of his voice, "I volunteer!" is this even allowed? If it was, and I'd known about it I certainly would've. He yells again, and this time Eama sends Alysandri back to his place and beckons for this Jay guy to come up onto the platform. I notice that his belly wobbles every time he advances, and it's all I can do from bursting out into peals of laughter. Eama announces us two tributes, before leading us off to the Justice building, where we will be allowed one hour with our families before we are taken to the Capitol.

In his hand is a locket. It has three folds and in it is a photo of me, my father and my mother. "You're allowed to wear a token from your district. I thought you might like this one." He says, pressing the locket into my hands. I immediately become choked up. What if I do die? I love my father so much, he's all I've got, and if I do die, then he'll be left with no-one. "While you're away, winning these games, I'm going to be in district ten. I've got a job as a peacekeeper." I smile at him. "You'll be good at that then!" For the next 50 or so minutes we just ramble on about various fighting techniques. "And remember Charity, throw straight. And remember, it's kill, or be killed. I love you." And before the time is up, he walks out of the room, tears beginning to stream down his face. I to, am having trouble keeping a composed face, and when the peacekeeper does come into the room, I have to try surprisingly hard to keep the tears back.

Eama leads me and this fat Jay to the train station. But instead of there being one of those slow, 30 mph ones we get here for getting around our enormous district, although I've never been on one, it is a sleek and grey Capitol train which looks very fast. After we have found a way out from the flashing cameras, we manage to get inside, which is good, as it has just started to rain. The inside takes me by surprise. Instead of being plain like I suspected it would be, it is lavish and covered in soft, crimson velvet, just like the rooms in the justice building were. I see that Jay has already been to the food hall, as he plonks himself down on one of the many large sofas and turns on the TV. The television coverage of the reapings has just begun. Deciding that I may as well size up my competition, I sit down on a sofa a fair distance away from Jay, and watch. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - district 3 reaping**

 **Ryan Kid - district 3 male**

My sister Reia skilfully throws a knife at the target crudely drawn on to the tree. A direct hit. Why can't I be that good? I step out in front of the target, the table knife clenched tightly in my hand. I take a small step back with my right foot, and lean back. With all the power I can muster, I throw the knife at the tree. It lands in the outer ring. Great, however it is better than usual. I turn to Reia. How can a thirteen year old be better than me? Well now it's time to get one back, as our next round of training is bow and arrow work. Although Reia is exceptional at throwing table knives, she is hopeless at the bow and arrows. Throwing knives is completely different to shooting an arrow, which is something that works to my advantage. Picking up the knife, which has now fallen out from the tree, I walk over to the one beside it, where, leaning against it, it is beautiful, wooden bow and twelve arrows. I stealthily pick them up, and whirl around, shooting the tree next to where Reia is standing. I laugh as she screams and jumps about a mile away from the said oak tree. Laughing, I skilfully shoot all the trees surrounding her until I've run out of arrows. All twelve sit in identical positions on twelve different oak trees. "That wasn't funny Ryan; you scared the death out of me!"She squealed. "Well if I've scared the death out of you then it means you won't be able to do die in the arena, if you get reaped!" I say, grinning at her. "Your turn then," I laugh. She scowls at me, but I see a small flicker of a smile. I watch critically as she loads the bow, and then shoots the arrow, but something's wrong, she's actually holding the bow correctly, and the arrow only lands a little off centre, but actually is a surprisingly good hit. I stare at her, quite shocked at this change. It was only yesterday when she wasn't even hitting the tree, how can she be this good? She continues to shoot, and about five of them actually land in the bullseye, and the other seven very close around it. "I haven't slept for practising, but I think it's worth it, don't you?" She smiles slyly at me, before dropping the bow and empty quiver in front of me and sauntering off back to the house for a late breakfast. I check my watch, and it says 10:43. I better go and have some breakfast and get changed pronto, the reaping's in 17 minutes. Yawning, I run the quarter of a mile back to our house. The kitchen is a hub of activity. My mother is ironing all our best clothes, while my father is buttering the toast for me, Reia, Hope, Trenton and Chesky. As the lowest age to be eligible for the reaping is twelve, the twins, Trenton and Chesky, will not have their names in the reaping bowls, because they're both only six. However I, Reia and Hope will all be in some form of danger. Poor Hope is only twelve, and Reia is still very young at thirteen. I'm the oldest, but at only fourteen, I still feel it's too young to be in a situation where my life is in danger. A pile of warn linen is dropped in front of me, which I suspect is my reaping outfit. Excusing myself from the table, I go to my room to get changed.

The woman who has just pricked my finger points me in the vague direction of about 100 boys, some of which I recognise from my school. The whole of district 3 must be here, I think the Capitol said that anyone found not to be attending the reapings will be executed or something like that. Anyway, we must have been pretty late, as there is already a blue man standing on the stage about 50 metres in front of me. His hair is a natural shade of blonde; however his skin on show is tainted a faint blue. Obviously he must be the escort for the chosen tributes. It is their job to 'escort' (as their name implies) the tributes to the Capitol and then as far as when the two tributes are boarding the hovercraft before the games. There are 12 different escorts, one for each of the two tributes from the twelve districts. This one must be ours. He says his name is Creston Hallow, but I don't really care about that. I just want to know who these two unfortunate tributes are. I see his blue hand reach into the bowl on the right, the one containing all the girl's names. But what he reads out makes my heart stop. "Reia Kid will be the female tribute from district 3 in the first annual Hunger Games!" I feel sick to the stomach. How can my thirteen year old sister be put into an arena to fight to the death against children and indeed adults who are so much older than her? My attention is drawn slightly as Creston's fateful hand is reaching into the bowl on the left. "Ryan Kid! Why I bet my life that this Reia is your sister! How fun!" I glare at him. This is not fun. The Capitol clearly stated that there can only be one victor, and that means that either I or my sister isn't coming back. Shakily, I walk up to the stage, where I can see Reia's now ashen white face looking timidly up at me. I grimace at her and mouth the words 'I'm sorry' to her. I think she understands. Our long early morning training sessions in the woods near our house has meant that we have also learnt the different types of plants that are out there, and I think our only friend in that arena will be one called Nightlock. But still, we don't know what arena we will be in. Nightlock only grows in wooded areas, and if we're not in a forest, then how will we find some? "Well, ladies and gentlemen, here are our two tributes, Reia and Ryan Kid! They each will be allowed half an hour each to say goodbye to their family, before I escort them to the arena. Off we go then!" I feel his blue hand on my back, firmly pushing me forwards. "I'm sorry, I really can't do anything." He whispers. Maybe I misjudged him, maybe not all Capitol citizens are that cold hearted.

I have to sit in a separate room to Reia. As we share the same family, we are only allowed thirty minutes to say goodbye to them. Reia is first, and the half hour seems to go on forever, but finally the door opens and in walks my already tear streaked mother, father, my sister Hope and my two brothers, Trenton and Chesky. The two six year olds run at my and start sobbing new, fresh tears. Hope looks to be still in a state of shock. At least she wasn't reaped. My twelve year old sister dying would really have been too much. My mother hands me a little book. "The Capitol said that we were allowed to give you a token to take into the arena, we thought you might want this." I nod, and look at the book. The cover says 'the little book of poetry'. Someone else might think that it's a little young for a 14 year old boy, but they don't know that my mother used to read from this very book to me and my sister when we were much younger. "We've given a copy to Reia as well, seeing as you're brother and sister, we thought it would be nice." I smile up at her, "Thank you, mum." She smiles back at me, and hugs me. Father does to, and then Hope comes forward. "What if I never see you again?" She whispers. "You will. Either me or Reia, we'll try and make it out of there." I say. But deep down, I know it won't be true. The peacekeeper comes into the room, and orders my family out, as the time is up. Creston comes into the room with Reia, who hugs me. Creston then leads us to the train station, an old and creepily abandoned place, which I don't think I soul has set foot in for over thirty years. But instead of there being one of the equally unused district trains, there is a beautiful, grey and very Capitol looking one. It must be very fast, and I realise that our journey to the Capitol will take just over two hours. Inside is equally as nice, however more luxurious, with velvet plush sofas and huge TV screens. Creston turns on the central TV, just as the Capitol logo appears. I realise that they show televised coverage of the reapings from every district when the tributes are on the trains. At least it will help pass the time. We only have a little more of it left.

 **Reia Kid - district 3 female**

The table knife is clutched in my right hand. In front of me is an old oak tree, with a messy but understandable target carved on it. Eyeing the target, I raise my right hand, and with a flick of the wrist, I send the knife flying right into the centre of the bullseye. I don't even need to look at my brother Ryan to know what he will be feeling. It's one of the few weapons that he's not very good at handling. Brilliant with a bow, and nifty with a sword, but with knives? Not really. He walks over to the target and pulls out the knife. He's acting passive – aggressively, it's quite funny to watch really. I watch as he raises the knife in the same hand as me, I throws it, with way too much power. The knife goes flying off course and lands in the outer ring. I can't stop myself from laughing, especially at his face. He pulls out the knife from the tree and pushes it into my hand. He then walks over to a tree near it, this one with another target etched on, and picks up a bow and twelve arrows. Ryan knows that I'm not very good at using a bow, but he doesn't know about my training session from dusk till dawn last night. I haven't slept at all but it has improved my aim, and I can now shoot with accuracy, which is a big improvement from yesterday, when I couldn't even hold the bow correctly. Ryan raises the bow, a gleaming arrow loaded in it. but before he shoots, he spins round and the arrow comes flying towards me. I scream and jump well away, but it seems he wasn't shooting _at_ me, just shooting at the tree next to where I was standing to make me jump. Well I'm laughing out loud, _har, har, har_. Then just for a laugh, he shoots the remaining eleven arrows into the trees around me. "That wasn't funny Ryan; you scared the death out of me!"I squeal. "Well if I've scared the death out of you then it means you won't be able to do die in the arena, if you get reaped!" he says, grinning at me, "Your turn." I frown back, but can't help a small smile forming at the corners of my mouth. I playfully snatch the bow out of his hand, a grab an arrow from the nearest tree. I walk over to one of the two oak trees that have targets drawn in. I glance at Ryan; he's looking smugly at me. Well I'll show him. I load the bow, and raise it, turning my body slightly, but keep my head and arms facing the target. I discreetly glance at him, and already his expression has changed. Like I said before, I'm actually holding the bow correctly today. Lining the tip of the arrow up to the centre of the target, I release it. It goes flying at the tree and lands slightly of the centre. But that shot is at least ten times better than my attempts on previous days, so I'm happy with it. I shoot the rest, and five of them actually land right in the middle, the others finishing closely around the bullseye. "I haven't slept for practising, but I think it's worth it, don't you?" I smile smugly up at him, and drop the bow at his feet. Before he can say anything back, I saunter back to the house, still laughing at his shocked face.

By the time Ryan gets back, the kitchen is very busy. My dad is buttering the toast, my mum is ironing out best clothes, my to younger brothers, Trenton and Chesky, are busy babbling to each other in that special language that only 6 year olds can understand. They're lucky, as the age range for the Hunger Games is 12 to 18 years; they don't have to worry about it, well not for six years anyway. However my younger sister Hope's name will be in the reaping bowls along with mine and Ryan's. I feel bad for Hope, she's only 12. She hasn't been training with me and Ryan, she can't even hold the weapons she's so small. She wouldn't stand a chance against older kids in a battle to the death. If I get reaped, then at least I can protect myself. The only thing that now worries me is if me and Ryan, or Hope and Ryan, both get reaped. The Capitol said that there can be only one victor, and that would mean that either me or Ryan, or Hope or Ryan, would not be coming home if we or they were reaped. I can't imagine life without either of them. Ryan is my funny, older brother, while Hope is my quiet little sister who wouldn't hurt a fly. Life without them would be unbearable. However me and Ryan do have a plan, depending on the arena. As well as training with weapons, we also have been pouring over textbooks about the different types of plants, learning which ones are edible, and which ones are deadly. We decided that if one of us dies or one of us is injured badly, then both of us will eat a plant named Nightlock. It kills you painlessly before it even reaches your stomach. Neither of us could carry on if one of us dies, nor watch the other suffer. And if we are in the final three, then both of us will take it. We don't want it to come down to just us, but that _is_ if we are both reaped. Mother hands me a pile of ironed clothes, and tells me to put them on sharp, as the reaping is due to begin in less than ten minutes. I see Ryan disappear into, I presume, his room, so I decide to do the same. I excuse myself from the table and go up the stairs into my room.

I flinch as an official looking woman pricks my finger with a needle in order to draw blood. I presume that this is for registration so they know who we are. I am instructed to stand with about a hundred or so thirteen year old girls, all of whom look scared to death. I look up and see a strange, blue man on the stage in front of us. At first I wonder where he is from, but as soon as he starts speaking, I understand. "Good morning ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls, and what a lovely day it is here in district 3. My name is Creston Hallows, and I am the escort for your two, brave tributes." He's speaking with the Capitol accent. Now it makes sense. "Well let's get down to business, ladies first!" I watch as his blue hand lowers into the bowl on the right side of the stage. After ten seconds of anxious waiting, he finally pulls out a little slip of paper. I pray to god that it doesn't say Hope Kid on it. I couldn't bear to see my sister suffer at the hands of ruthless killers. "Reia Kid will be the female tribute from district 3 in the first annual Hunger Games!" he says. I've started shaking. Me? _Me_? Why? What have I ever done wrong? Well, at least it's not Hope, and I _have_ trained for the games. But still. Shakily, I make my way up to the stage. I can feel every set of eyes in district 3 watching me now. I take my place on the right of this Creston guy, and watch as he draws out another slip of paper, this time from the boy's bowl on the left. "Ryan Kid! Why I bet my life that this Reia is your sister! How fun!" I notice, with a sinking heart, Ryan's grimace at me. He mouths something which resembles 'I'm sorry'. I understand. We're both dead. I hear Creston say that because we share the same family, we will only get half an hour with them, instead of the designated ten for other tributes. However, as he leads us out, I swear that I hear him whisper the words 'I'm sorry, I really can't do anything.' I quite like Creston Hallows; perhaps not all Capitol dwellers are _that_ bad.

I stare down at the book in my hands. It is just like the one that my mother used to read out of, when me and Ryan were about 5 and 6. All of my close family, excluding Ryan of course, are gathered around me, a tight mass of teary faces. Hope is still clinging onto me, and Trenton and Chesky are sobbing huge, loud tears onto my mother's shoulder. "Creston said that you are allowed to have a token from your family or district in the arena, providing that it's not, or can be used as, a weapon, so we thought you may want this. It's not the original, as we're giving that to your brother, but it's a very close copy, do you mind?" I shake my head, although I can't help feeling a little bit cheated. Suddenly the door bursts open, and a peacekeeper informs us that the thirty minutes is up. "I love you all!" I shout to my disappearing family, and I hear a chorus of 'I love yous', and 'we'll miss yous' and the odd 'Good lucks 'come back. And then I realise, I'm never going to see them again.

Creston leads me and Ryan to the abandoned train station. I hate the sight of this place; however there is a small surprise. Instead of the slow district trains that would take 3 days to reach the Capitol, it is one of those fast models from the Capitol, looking very out of place in district 3. Creston leads us on board, and I let out a small gasp. The inside is gorgeous, all red and gold and velvety. Creston turns on the TV, and just in time to. The coverage of all the reapings is about to start. I sit down on one of the many sofas, this one next to a window. But instead of fixing my eyes on the screen, I look out the window at the receding district 3, knowing that it's my last look. That I'll never see my home again.

 **Author's note:**

 **Thank you for reading and I hope you are enjoying it. There's a lot more to come, however I am very busy over the next week or so. Please leave a review, it means a lot!**

 **The tributes so far are:**

 **District 1 – Teddy Johnson and Opal Hart**

 **District 2 – Jay Herring and Charity Smith**

 **District 3 – Ryan and Reia Kid**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – district 4 reapings**

 **Zachary Blue – district 4 male**

Me, Hindy and Omar. Better known as the 'dream team'. Any one of us could win these so called Hunger Games blindfolded. Even before the announcement that these games would take place we trained daily. Swords, spears, tridents, daggers, you name it, we tried it. I have to admit, I am particularly good with the sword, and nifty with a trident. Although, what can you expect, I am from district 4 after all. Hindy and Omar are both skilled in weapons that require accuracy, such as spears and throwing knives, whereas I'm sort of more stab in the general direction of the target and hope that the sword hit a vital organ. As well as weapons, we have also looked into various plants, pouring over textbooks, trying to identify which ones will be our allies, if we do get put in the arena.

It's three hours until the reaping, and already I have started to feel excited. I would never kill someone just for the sake of it, but if my life was at stake, then I wouldn't give it a second thought. I'm actually beginning to get worried if I don't get reaped, I've built myself up, done so much training, that if my name wasn't drawn out of that bowl, I'm starting to think that I would feel almost sad at the missed opportunity. The 'dream team' always meet up to train in a large field behind my house. The majority of district 4 is well off, like my family, but a small part, where we boarder district 11, isn't. Between these two very different parts of district 4 is a square mile of tall and short grass. Naturally, the grass would be very long, and would be about three centimetres taller than my 18 year old self. However, in order to actually be able to move about and use various weapons, we had to cut the grass in the middle, slightly nearer the forest which boarders district 10, in order to stay out of sight of the peacekeepers. Omar and Hindy both live in the poorer part of our district, however, compared to the few pictures we've seen of kids from districts such as 10, 11 and 12, they don't look too bad, as they _have_ had enough to eat throughout their lives. I'm the last to arrive, as my house is the furthest away from our meeting place. Hindy and Omar have both begun, and I don't blame them, I to want to fit as much practice in as possible. I walk over to the spears and pick one up in my left hand, as I am left handed. I lean back and throw the spear hard in the direction of one of our handmade targets. It actually lands in the small, golden bullseye. Not in the centre mind, but undoubtedly a lot better than my usual. "Woah!" Omar yells, evidently very impressed with my new found, spear throwing skills. "Hey Hindy, look at Zachary's hit!" Hindy, halfway through twelve arrows, all of which were in the bullseye, turns around. She drops her bow and starts clapping. Omar joins in to. "Well done Zachary, that's so much better than yesterday!" she squeals. I blush, and try to act modest. "It was probably luck, look, I'll throw another one, I bet you it won't be as good." I pull out the spear and tread back to the furthest line from the target that we have drawn on. It's about ten metres from the target, and about three more metres away from where I threw the spear that gained me this attention. Again, I lean back and throw the spear at the target. And again, it lands even closer to the direct centre. Hindy squeals again, and Omar grins at me. I'm pretty pleased with myself. I've never been able to master accurately throwing a spear, sure I could pick one up and chuck it, but it would probably land in one of the outer rings of a target, and that's if it even _hit_ the target in the first place. Now, I feel even surer of myself. If I get reaped, then there is no chance of any tribute making it out of that arena except me. I smile back at Hindy and Omar and continue to throw the spear again and again, securing many exact bullseyes.

Our last training session, or rather, my last training session, as I'm 18 and Hindy and Omar are both 17, so will have to train again next year, took up two whole hours. That leaves just 60 minutes to get dressed into my formal reaping clothes and head down to the square for reaping. Both my parents are at home, none the wiser to the 'dream team's' recent training sessions, or indeed any of them. They smile at me as I walk in, but my mother puts her finger to their lips, and points upstairs where little sister, Coral will be sleeping. She is the youngest member of our large and ever growing family of ten: my mother and my father; my three older siblings, Maggi, Iona and Amah, who have all moved out and are all over 18, so won't be in any danger of fighting to the death in an arena; then me and Aliza, the twins of the family; then come my three younger siblings, Gannet, who is 13; Blighe, who is just 8, and finally Coral, who is only six and still naps in the morning. At 10 o'clock. "I've ironed your clothes, Zachary, and they're upstairs on your bed. Aliza and Gannet are already changed and in the dining room. Maybe you could comfort them, Aliza's trying her best, but she can't calm Gannet, please will you give her a hand, this morning's been stressful enough, without you disappearing off again, where do you go?" it all came out in a torrent of words. My mind tries to make sense of what she says but all I can make out is: get dressed – help Aliza and Gannet – tell mother where I've been. I shrug, and just say that I've been out with friends, it may be the last time I will see them. At this starts crying, wailing at the thought of me dying. I try to writhe out of her grip, but it seems that with every attempt, she just grips harder and harder. I'm almost suffocating when she finally lets go, her face all red and blotchy. Murmuring something about getting ready, I guiltily run up the stairs to my room. You see, she's not my _real_ mother, neither is she Aliza', Maggi's, Amah's or Iona's. _Our_ mother died giving birth to Gannet, so I hardly knew my true blood mother; however our older siblings say that she was kind and gentle. So my step mother is the only mother that I really know, which is why I suppose I call her 'mother', and not by her real name, Elli. I suppose 'Elli' has sometimes treated me a little coldly, but at the end of the day, she has always fed me, given me clothes, and in some ways, loved me to some extent. I look at the clock. 10:10. Fifty minutes. Get dressed Zachary! Hurrying more than ever, I dash across the landing and dive into my room. It takes me only twenty minutes to get dressed, a new personal best. Thankfully, the square where the reaping will take place is only one street away, so that leaves about 25 minutes before we have to go. I find Aliza and Gannet in the dining room, like mother said. She was right; Gannet is in a real state. Judging by the dark rings under his eyes, I can guess that he didn't have a much sleep. His usually tanned, skin is very pale, while his brown curly hair, sometimes stiff from the salt in the sea air, lies flat and un-brushed against his skull. "Fetch me a brush will you, Zach." Aliza says, stroking the back of Gannet's head. I nod and look around the house until I find one lurking under a teddy bear in Coral's room. I bring it down for Aliza, who thanks me. I check my wrist watch, it's 10:45. We'll be going in ten minutes. A flutter of nerves and excitement runs through me. Soon, district 4 will know who the lucky two tributes are.

"Hello district 4! My name is Aelia Fauston, and I am the escort for the two tributes that we are about to choose today. The process is simple. Every child aged 12 to 18 will have their name on a slip of paper in these to glass bowls. The bowl on the right, or my left, contains the girls' names, while the other bowl, your left and my right, contains the boys' names. I simply, and without looking, will select one slip of paper from each and read them out. They will be the tributes representing district 4 in the very first annual Hunger Games! Let us begin." I watch as she delves her hand, which, like any other Capitol citizen that I have seen, is dyed a strange colour, hers is a nice aqua-marine colour, while her hair is green and short. I think it's called a 'pixie cut', or something. She pulls out a slip of paper, I think about the unfortunate tribute's name on it. There can only be one victor, and that's going to be me. So this girl is unfortunately, going to die. "Hindy Oslen!" she says, excitedly. Oh, I didn't think about that possibility. What if my name, or even Omar's, was called? One of us would not be coming home, and if I'm reaped, then it's not going to be me dead and buried. "And our male tribute is… Gannet Blue!" No, no, no! This is just getting worse! I've got to do something. I run to where Gannet is shakily walking, and I protectively stand in front of him. "Please don't take my brother! Take me!" I plead. Peacekeepers are now running in from all directions. They seize me, and Gannet, and hold us tightly, making sure that we don't try to run away. I look up at the platform. Both Aelia and Hindy are looking shocked and confused. "Ummm, let me consult the game-makers, I won't be a minute. The square breaks out into whispering, however within a few minutes, Aelia is back, and it falls silent. "I have asked the game-makers if they will allow another child to take the place of the already reaped child, if said child wants to. From now on, this will be known as 'volunteering'. Are there any girls who wish to take the place of Hindy Oslen?" I cross my fingers in hope that someone will volunteer like I have just done, but the square remains silent. I feel the peacekeeper's grip on me loosen, and I walk up to the platform where Aelia and Hindy are standing. Looking back I can see Gannet being pushed back to where all the other thirteen year old boys are standing. At least he is now safe.

I wait in the justice building for my family. Aelia said that we can spend one last hour with them, before we must take the train to the Capitol. There, we will be given three days training, a lot of food and even more attention, before being put in the arena. I hear the door open and look up to see all 9 members of my family. Even Maggi, Iona and Amah have come to send me off. I see that Coral is holding a blue blanket, _our_ blue blanket, as it has belonged to every Blue when we were small, even my dad had it. The only thing is, Coral hasn't used it for years, so why is she suddenly trailing it around? "Yor tocken." She says, in the half understandable small child language. I look up at my father, confused as to why she is giving me it, and calling it a token. "Aelia has told us that each tribute may bring something in the arena to remind them of their family. It can be anything, as long as it can't be used as a weapon." I understand now. This was not only _my_ blanket, when I was small; it has been used by my family. I'm choking up. Sure, I'll miss them in the arena. But for some reason, I am crying about the other tributes' families, who will never see their child again. I remember when I was very small, about four or five; my dad would take me and Aliza out on our family's boat, to catch fish. It wasn't considered illegal as long as we didn't take the fish for ourselves. I can still vividly remember those precious memories like they happened only yesterday. Aliza has slowly forgotten, not really caring about it. I don't even know if my father remembers, it was so long ago, about twelve or even thirteen years back. Perhaps I am the only one that still thinks about how blue the water was, or how happy we all looked. The memory then was from a day before my mother died giving birth to Gannet. So it both hurts me and makes me feel happy.

The hour is up, and I watch as district 4 falls away behind me, just a receding blur of blue and green and grey. Hindy is in the main compartment, watching all the reapings on the huge televisions. I'm catching up on any lost sleep in my own private bedroom. The world around me slowly grows darker as the train rocks me into a dreamless sleep.

 **Hindy Oslen – district 4 female**

I'm so pleased for Zachary. He's wanted to throw a spear well since we started training for the upcoming games. The Capitol _had_ told us that there was to be no training for these games, but how are we supposed to win, if we get reaped, if we are up against people from districts where exercise is daily for them, and their twelve year olds are the size of adult men, male or female. I congratulate Zachary, and continue shooting arrows at a far away target. All of them hit the bullseye and one or two snap as more fly into their spot. I jog over to the target and collect the remaining 10 arrows that are still in one piece, place them back in the quiver, and move another five metres or so back. I am now standing around twenty metres from the target, and my back is brushing the tall grass that towers over even 18 year old Zachary. The target is now on the complete opposite side of our circle that we made in the un-touched field. No one goes here now, as the soil is to chalky to grow anything apart from grass, and district 4's industry is fishing, so this field was left to the hands of mother nature, hence why the grass that we haven't cut down is taller Zachary. I load my bow again, and aim the arrow's tip at the target drawn on some cardboard. I release it and watch as it flies at the target, hitting the dead centre. I grin, and catch Zachary's eye. He claps, however seems too interested in his new found spear skills. I don't really mind, as both Zachary and Omar, the other member of what Zachary calls the 'Dream Team', know that I am extremely skilled with a bow and arrow. I realise that if I want to gain their attention, I need to try something which they know I am bad with. You see, I can easily handle swords, spears, knives, bow and arrows, axes, you name it. But there is one weapon, which I have tried frequently and am still embarrassingly bad at, considering that I come from district 4. The trident. Even though I am seventeen, the trident is always that little bit too heavy for me. I struggle to pick it up, let alone throw it. Both Omar and Zachary are astoundingly good with one. Throwing them from great distances and still getting direct hits. I suppose there will be lots of other weapons ready to be used in the games, if I get reaped, but this inability is hurting my moral pride. I have grown up in district 4, lived here for all 17 years of my life, and I can't even _pick up_ a trident. I see that Zachary is still throwing spears, while Omar has thankfully left the trident and is attacking a bag stuffed with the cut grass with a two handed sword. I silently walk over to where my nemesis awaits. I flex my muscles, stretch, and go to pick up the trident. Well it seems like my doubled strength conditioning has paid off. The trident rests in my arms with minimum strain, however now it's for the tricky part. I lean back ever so slightly, careful not to allow the added weight to cause me to fall flat on my back, and very much like throwing spear, propel the trident towards the nearest target, which is around a good eight or nine metres away. To my utter joy, the trident sinks deeply into the lower half of the target. I let out a squeal of joy, causing the two boys to stop throwing spears and attacking bags of grass and look at me. Omar's eyes find the trident first. I can tell this by how his mouth literally drops open in awe of my latest achievement. Zachary follows Omar's gaze, and he to, looks at me with an expression of utter astonishment. "I know!" I squeal. Both raise their eyebrows and start clapping at me. I mock bow. At this, they start laughing. I join in to, just so pleased with myself. Now I can really call myself a citizen of district 4.

"Hindy Hindy Hindy Hindy Hindy Hindy Hindy!" I hear my younger sister, Posie, start squealing as soon as she sees me through the window. Although we are far better off than even the rich in the districts such as 11 or 12, we are still considered to be the poorer of district 4. Both I and Omar live in this slightly less well off area, however Zachary's family are fishermen, the best paid job available in the fishing industry. Mine and Omar's fathers are gutters, and so is my mother. Omar's mother died in one of the floods a few years back, however the rain wasn't as heavy near our house as it was near Omar's, even though we are only a few streets away. I guess we were just really lucky.

The strong smell of frying fish meets my nostrils the moment I step into our house. Posie, dressed in a pretty tartan pinafore and a white lacy blouse, comes running towards me. I guess this must be her reaping outfit. Even if you are not within the age range desired for potential tributes, you must still dress in your best clothes, as it is considered by the Capitol to be a very formal event. Though there is seven years between us, we are surprisingly close. I wander through to the kitchen, where I see my mother, dressed in a blue and white frock, her blonde hair tied back in a neat plait, dishing up a very late breakfast of fried fish "You've been out for two hours, so I saved you a bit of our breakfast." I nod and tuck in. I'm so hungry! All that trident work has left me nothing but a sore and hungry wreck. At least it was worth it, though. If I don't get reaped this year, then there's still the chance of being reaped again next year, for the 2nd annual Hunger Games. At least I will only have myself to worry about, and after that, when Posie is eligible, I'll have turned nineteen and wouldn't be able to be reaped.

I wave goodbye to my mother, father and sister, as they head towards the audiences designated area. I am left alone in a queue of girls, all different ages. When I'm finally at the front, the woman there asks me my name, age and pricks a needle into my finger. It hurts, but I soon get used to the stinging. And anyway, someone, a blue someone with green hair, has just walked onto the platform in front of us. "Hello district 4! My name is Aelia Fauston, and I am the escort for the two tributes that we are about to choose today." She goes on to explain how the reaping works. I'm not really paying attention until I hear my name being called. I look up, and notice that all the eyes in the square are on me. Oh no! This means… Why me? I walk up to the platform, the children parting, stepping aside for me. I climb the steps that lead to the platform and stand next to Aelia, or whatever she's called. The smiles at me, however I can see that her brown eyes reflect sadness. She then turns and dips her hand into the other glass bowl, the one that contains the boys names. I daren't look at my family, as I know that I will start to cry, and I want to look tough for the many cameras that I know surround me. "And our male tribute is… Gannet Blue!" Blue? Isn't that Zachary's surname? But it all makes sense when I see Zach rush out from where he was standing and protectively place himself in front of Gannet, who I have figured to be his younger brother. I hear Zach say something about replacing Gannet with himself. Is that allowed? For the sake of Zach's small brother I hope it is, but that would mean that me and Zachary would both be in the games, and there can be only one victor, so either me or Zachary would not be coming home, and I am determined to see my family and my district again. But I can't bear the thought of Zach dying, or worse, having to kill him myself. We're such good friends. It's a stalemate: knowing Zachary's pain at losing his brother, or seeing him be killed, or indeed killing him myself in the arena. I can't win. Aelia comes back out after consulting the game-makers. The whispers in the square die down as she clears her throat and announces that Zachary Blue may take the place of Gannet Blue, as long as he is willing to do it, and not forced to. As I said, I'm not sure whether to be happy or sad for Zach.

Posie comes rushing into the velvety room in the Justice Building, her right hand clenched tightly around something. My mother and father follow closely behind, silent as always. Posie opens her hand, and I stare down at the small hair grip encased in her palms. It has a small but intricate fish on the top, and on the bottom, I can make out miniscule writing, which even my eyes struggle to read, which says simply: Noah, Maria, Hindy and Posie Oslen. All of our small family on one, two inch hair slide. My father murmurs something about it being my token from my district to take into the arena. I realise that even though I can handle most weapons, and can identify types of berries quite easily, there still might be many things that may pose a threat to me in the arena. What if there are other tributes who have trained more than me? A strong 18 year old boy could easily overpower me. I might never see my family again. On that thought I wrap my arms around them, not wanting to let go, because when I do, it will be time to wave goodbye.

The flashing of the millions of cameras make it harder to keep the tears back. I try to look ahead at the train that waits, trying to focus on that, rather than all the thoughts flying through my chaotic head. We finally make our way through the hubbub of the cameras and journalists. I gasp at the interior of the train, the outside may look impressive in monochrome, but the interior in all the gold and crimson velvet is outstanding, and more calming to me. Aelia switches on the TV, which is almost double the size of ours. Blue sky and a similar square to district 4's greats my eyes. It must be the coverage of the reapings. I notice Zach hover around the TV for a minute, but then he goes in the direction of another carriage. I watch for a bit, but I begin to feel tired, and the rhythm of the train moving along the tracks doesn't help me to stay awake. Before I know it, I have entered the uncontrollable world of dreams.

 **Author's note –**

 **Thank you for reading the story so far. I just wanted to point out that when I originally type out this story on Word, I do have a new line for every speaker. However when I post the new chapter, it changes the formatting so that this new line does not show. I just thought I would mention this as I've had a few comments which mention things like this, so I just thought that this was useful information. Thank you though to everyone who has reviewed, I have taken the advice into consideration and have edited a few chapters. Please leave a review; it really helps, whether it's complimentary or constructive. Thank you again, Jasmine**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – district 5 reapings**

 **Andy Forn – district 5 male**

I'm running. That's all I can think about. I don't know where to, but anywhere away from my pursuers. I have no means to protect myself, other than my bare knuckles, whereas they, all five of them, are armed to the teeth with spears and swords and daggers and bows and arrows. They are the ultimate alliance. They all look to have trained for these games; perhaps they have been training their entire life. I continue to stumble over the roots of trees, and even falling completely once or twice. But soon, I am faced with a huge, sea of angry and choppy waves. I can't swim. There are barely any bodies of water in district 5 to practice in. I hear their menacing laughter grow closer and closer until I feel the very tip of the spear touch my back. "You can't run know, little boy. Your time is up. Turn around and face your 'superiors'!" I follow whoever's command, and am greeted by five blurry figures. I can't quite make out their faces; however there seems to be 3 girls and 2 boys. With one final laugh, an out of focus girl raises her bow and I sink into a world of black.

I wake up sweating. "It was just a dream, just one of your dreams." I hear Rika, my younger sister, say. I look round and she is sat next to me, a damp cloth in her hand. She presses it against my forehead, and I slowly start to feel cooler, and more relaxed. "You had one of your anxiety dreams again, Andy. But there's nothing to be scared of." Oh yes there is. Every time there is something big, like a birth, or even a death, I get a dream about it, the night before it happens. I know now that not only am I going to be reaped; I am also going to be killed in these up-coming games. And I can't escape the fact, because my dreams have always been pin-point accurate. At first, doctors just thought my dreams were just a serious case of Déjà vu, but after more serious searches, including tracing my genes to see if was ancestral, they found that my great grandfather was In fact, a discarded and thought to be un working, creation of the Capitol, referred to as a mutation, but more commonly known as a mutt. During the early stages of the rebellion, the Capitol's leading scientists had tried to create a mutt that could look into the future, enabling them to see the outcome of the war, if they would be successful or not. This was to see if they should fight the rebels, because they knew that they would win, or just to surrender because the districts were going to win anyway. However, the mutt known as the Overseer did not work as the Capitol intended, and he was cast aside and left to die. However they made the same mistake with my great grandfather as they did with the mutts known as Jabberjays. As instead of dying, the Overseer trekked through the woods until he came upon a rebel settlement. At first, they thought that he was dangerous, sent by the capitol to kill them, but they soon learnt that he was in fact, a discarded and non-threatening mutt that would do no harm to them. Not only was he capable of low level 'seeing', he was also equipped with human emotion, and soon fell in love with a woman, my great grandmother, to be exact. Throughout the line, the sidekick gene has stayed dormant, until me. Though not able to willingly see into the future, when there is something important about to happen, my dreams will often become the portal to seeing future events.

The chattering at the breakfast table grows quiet when I enter the kitchen. My sister Rika probably told my mother and brother about my 'dream'. Only Suku, our dog, continues to make a noise, protesting that no one has given him any food yet. I ignore his whines and sit down at the table, and begin to eat my bread and honey. Rika, stares up at me with her huge olive green eyes. "It's alright, it was only a dream," I tell her, "it won't happen in real life." She doesn't seem so sure, but goes back to eating her breakfast. Luckily, she is only 9, so for the next three years she won't have to worry about the Hunger Games too much, unless of course, I'm in them. My older brother Toki, however, will have to. At fifteen, he's the oldest out of me, him and Rika. My mum says that he is the spitting image of my father, who died a few weeks before Rika was born. He was caught stealing extra food, and was shot by a peacekeeper on the spot. I didn't even get to say goodbye to him. We couldn't afford any photographs before he died, or even now, so I don't know what he looked like exactly, I only have Toki to go off. After he was killed, we could barely afford anything apart from the rent and food to eat. Now we have _enough_ , and we live fairly comfortably, just without the luxuries that the richer districts have. Both my siblings do not have the sidekick gene that I possess, and Toki often makes fun of it, as do other children, who all call me a freak. Only Rika does not mock me. Instead she sees me as some sort of god. I don't really enjoy either, however; at least Rika _likes_ me, which is more than I can say for my own mother. Preferring the company of my Toki, my mother, Martha Forn, seemingly detests me, joining in with calling me a freak. _My own mother_. I guess that she sees the mark of the Capitol in me. Anyone who knows the Forn family knows just how much we hate the Capitol, especially my mother. I timidly ask where my reaping clothes are, and she barks back at me that she isn't going to spend precious time ironing my nice clothes, of which I have very few, when she could be doing something far more 'productive', as she put it. She then goes back to eating her noticeably larger slab of bread and honey.

It's been about three years since I last wore my formal attire, and you can tell by how dusty and small it. The once soft, white jumper is now faded and grey with age. I see that a thread has snagged on a sharp bit of wood in my drawers, resulting in the sleeves unwinding. I take a pair of scissors and cut away the frayed fabric. Now comes the hard bit – getting it on. I try many methods but none seem to work. Eventually I have to come to the conclusion of cutting the front of the jumper, so that it is now a slightly more wearable jacket. Just one you can't button or zip up. Now come the trousers. I remember that three years ago, they were about ten centimetres too long, and the bottoms of them grew wet from the numerous puddles. So that should mean that they should be alright for me now, I'm quite a small twelve-year-old, and I haven't grown that much since I was nine. They kind of fit, at least, the length of the leg is long enough, if a bit too long, however the waist band is restricting the flow of blood to only my upper half and my legs are going blue. Realising that the only option is to undo the fly and half undo the zip, I search for a longer top than the one I am wearing, so that it covers it. I hear my mother calling me, saying that it's now time to go. The square where the reaping is to take place is a good 45 minute walk from our house. Pulling on my dissected jumper, I dash down the stairs and join my family.

We arrive at the town centre with only three minutes to spare. I and Toki have to give our names and ages, and then they take a small amount of blood for identification. The woman at the desk directs Toki to where the fifteen year old boys are stood and me to where all the 12 year old boys are. It seems we are the last to arrive, as the woman at the desk is packing up. I fix my gaze on the platform just in front of me. To my right are all the young girls. It seems like the further you are back, the older you are, boys on the left, and girls on the right. I notice a dark skinned man with short, neon blue hair is talking to our head peacekeeper, Claudius. The peacekeeper nods his head, points at his watch and then at us. I assume he is telling the man, who I assume to be our Capitol escort, to begin. "Hi you lovely people of district five!" he yells out to the crowd, in an ecstatic, Capitol sounding voice. "I hope you are all having a great day, and are all eager to find out who will be the two tributes representing this amazing district in the _first ever_ annual hunger games! My name is Nero Thompson, and without further ado, ladies first!" his hand draws out a small slip of paper, and he calls out the first tributes name. "Rozi Idgell! And the next tribute is…." Please not me, please not me, please not me, please not me… "Andy Forn!" Oh great. Well, what did I expect; my dreams have never been wrong before. I hear a cheer coming from the boys, and someone shouting, "At least we won't miss _him_!" and even worse, "Ding dong the freak is dead!" My heart is sinking lower and lower, I try and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but I can't stop hearing all the jeers coming from the crowd. Once I'm on the podium, I can see all the malicious faces jeering up at me, on their lips is the single word, freak. I catch Rozi's eye, and she looks at me with pity. At least there's one person who actually cares about my feelings. She is, I think, about 14, two years above me in school. The teachers are always commenting on how caring she is, and how hard she works. She won't have a problem forming an alliance once we're in the arena, then.

It seems my mother didn't bother to come and say goodbye, and neither did Toki. Only Rika wanted to spend a final hour with me. She hands me something soft, and I look down in my hand to see a lock of her blonde curly hair. I must have looked confused because she explained to me that Nero had told her and Rozi's family that the tribute was allowed to take into the arena a small token to remind them of their home and their family. She couldn't think of anything, until what must have been Rozi's father said, "What lovely hair you have," Then she knew what to do. I thank her, and ask my sister why the other two didn't come. I sort of already know, but I want to know for sure. "Because they don't like you, and they won't miss you like I will." She says simply.

That single line stays in my head and keeps me strong as the cameras flash away at me and Rozi. Through the tight packed crowd I can see a silver and grey train, which must be from the Capitol to take us to the Capitol. The inside is as equally stunning like the outside, but more like the old castles from long ago. My eyes are drawn first to a huge plasma, flat screen, wall mounted TV, which Nero has just turned on. The Capitol seal appears, and then a woman starts speaking about the importance of the reapings, and about the games etc. I and Rozi both sit down on different sofas and start to watch. After all, these people will be our competition.

 **Rozi Idgell – district 5 female**

I hate the reaping. Not just because it may threaten my existence, but because we have to miss a day of school. I've never done that! And imagine if I am reaped as a tribute, I may never get to go to school again. I'm not worried about dying if I get put in the arena; I'm more worried about not attending my school. I've always had perfect attendance and being in the Capitol fighting or whatever you do will totally ruin it. For the sake of my reputation I hope I am never a tribute. It's still ages until the reaping, which happens at eleven o'clock, and I can't stop from thinking about all the useful things I could be learning if I was sat in class right now, and not mooching around feeding our chickens at 10:30. I suppose I should go and get dressed. I don't think that trousers covered in chicken feathers would be the Capitol's idea of formal. I toss our three hens the last bit of bread on me, and jog back to the house.

My mother is busy ironing when I enter the kitchen; she looks like she's buried in a mountain of clothes. I suppose it's all our formal attire. There's hers and dad's, then there's mine and my brother Timmi's. Mine looks like it's ready, so I grab it off the ironing board while she's not looking and dash upstairs. Mother recently bought a new dress for me to wear. It's plain, but the colour is my favourite olive green, and it goes with my curly, red hair amazing well. It has a small, intricate white lace collar, which makes my pale face look slightly more tanned. I'm not normally one for dresses, but I have to admit, I rather like this one. I look at my clock. It's twenty to eleven. There's still plenty of time. I hear the back door open, and then close. It must be my dad and Timmi back. I listen as Timmi thumps up the stairs (for a 17 year old he is surprisingly heavy) and go into his room to put on his reaping clothes.

I and Timmi wave goodbye to our parents, who go and join the roped off area for spectators. We both have to wait in a long queue, until finally we are registered and are standing in our designated areas according to our age. My watch says that it is 11:01, so obviously the Capitol isn't very organised, unlike me. I see a blue haired man walk into the centre of the stage, so it must be starting now. He says hello, and states that his name is Nero Thompson, our escort. His hand reaches into the bowl on the right, and he pulls out a small slip of paper. "Rozi Idgell!" What? Me? But my name was one is thousands, how come mine is the one pulled out? Grimacing, I walk up to the platform and join Nero, who is in the process of pulling out the male tribute. It's a boy called Andy Forn. Is that who I think it is? The one who has mysterious dreams that predict the future or something? Must be, especially as all the boys and most of the girls are now shouting 'freak' in his direction. I feel sorry for him, even more than I do for myself. Is that weird? I give him a reassuring and pitiful smile. He's only 12. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for our two tributes, Rozi Idgell and Andy Forn!" some boys shout 'freak' over Andy's surname. How can they do this to him? But then again, he is half mutt.

"And remember, we are always thinking of you in the arena, Rozi." My mother says, her arms wrapped around me. "Look on the bright side; at least it wasn't your brother that was reaped!" I hear Timmi say. I grin. Where would I be without my funny older brother? In a worse state than I am now probably. My dad hands me a feather. I take it, and look up at my dad in utter confusion. Why is he giving me a _chicken_ feather? "It's your token, to remind you when you are in the games of your loving family." I understand know. "And it's from Speckles, your favourite one." I laugh. Out of the three, Speckles is indeed my favourite. All of her feathers are covered in little irregular dots, while the other chickens are just brown and tan. This will certainly keep me company in the arena, and if I manage to make an alliance, which I'm pretty sure about, as I'm actually quite good at making friends, then it will at least create some laughter while we're stuck in the games. We're not really sure what to talk about for the last part of the hour. We don't yet want to say goodbye, because that will signify the end. We settle on some small talk, until only five minutes remain.

The crimson velvet is so soft. While the outside of the train was sleek and modern, the inside is decked out in rich reds and shining golds, much like the houses and castles of ancient times. The sofa alone is probably worth more than my entire house, which is smaller than this single carriage. Nero has turned on the huge telly, and just in time to, as the TV coverage of all the reapings has just started. First is district 1, then 2 etc. While Andy seems transfixed by the screen, I stare out the window as district 5, my home, disappears out of sight.

 **Authors note –**

 **I would love to hear what you think, so please leave a review, constructive or complimentary, it really helps!**


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